


On The Dot

by TheSparksofMagic



Series: Chaos on Maria Wall Street [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, barista!ymir, coffee shop AU, marco is a fab wingman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSparksofMagic/pseuds/TheSparksofMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ymir serves the cute blonde her coffee at 9:15 on the dot everyday, and pines shamelessly. Only after a shift featuring a crazy wingman, a scribbled number on a business card and a ridiculous amount of rainbow nailpoish does she actually manage to do anything about her crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Close Encounters of the Blonde Kind

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter of a two-shot, which I may or may not be podficcing eventually.

Ymir hated her job. Every single aspect annoyed her in some way: the tips were shit, if existent at all; she wasn't allowed free coffee even as a minimum wage employee; and her manager was a homophobic piece of shit who tried to ever more creative ways to fire her.

But especially, she hated the customers. Something about everyone pissed her off: they were too quiet; they were overly loud; they were arrogant hipster losers; they were arrogant posh ladies who looked down their noses at her with far too much time on their hands.

There was, however, one highlight to her job as morning shift barista at Survey, generic coffee shop chain number 678. That pertained to the existence of the short, blonde girl who appeared permanently flustered and insanely adorable. Ymir felt her gay little heart squish with emotion just picturing her face. She came into the shop at 9:25 every day from Monday to Friday, and had been since what was commonly excepted as the beginning of the university term without missing a single day. Ymir hadn't actually had the chance to speak to her yet, having only just been trained to use the till _without_ breaking it.

At 9:23 on a chilly Wednesday morning in November, Ymir leant her elbows on the counter-top, picking absently at a scab on her chin. Her co-worker Sasha flitted around behind her, humming what Ymir could've sworn were Disney tunes. (Not that Ymir would ever, even in a million years and on her deathbed, admit to knowing any Disney movies, let alone knowing them well enough to recognise their songs by hum.) The sharp scent of cleaning spray was beginning to overpower even the ingrained smell of burnt coffee beans, and Ymir turned to face Sasha, nose wrinkling in disgust.

"For fuc- For God's sake, Sasha, has Levi got you scrubbing the machine out again? What the fu- hell did you do this time?" she asked. Sasha groaned, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat.

" _Apparently_ it wasn't clean enough from the last time I did it, but that's just his excuse. It's definitely because he caught me and Connie snogging in the kitchens again." Ymir raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply. Sasha stuck out her tongue and ducked back down to continue scrubbing to the coffee machine covered in soap.

Ymir glanced up at the clock hanging lopsided on the wall. 9:25 exactly.

The door to the cafe swung open, the bell chiming quietly and a draft of cold air sending goosebumps down Ymir's exposed forearms. She couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face at the sight of the blonde ponytail swinging side to side at the top of the girl's head, at the rainbow scarf wrapped around a pale neck and at the obnoxiously green duffle coat hanging to her knees.

Ymir straightened up, ignoring Sasha's giggles from behind her, and let her face settle into her usual smirk rather than the stupid love-struck expression she had been sporting beforehand.

When the girl approached the counter, Ymir quenched the sudden and overwhelming urge to swoon. How was one girl simultaneously this fucking... _model-like_ , and yet so goddamned ordinary? At closer range, Ymir could see the strands of hair too short to fit into the ponytail curling at the tips onto her scarf, at the zit she was clearly trying to hide under her foundation and the dark circles under her eyes. Ymir internally smacked herself for being such an idiot over one set of blue eyes, Jesus fuck, and suppressed the urge to flip the bird at Sasha, who was still laughing from her position on the floor.

"Hey, welcome to Survey, what can I get you?" Ymir asked.

"I'll have a plain filter coffee, thanks." Ymir raised her eyebrows at the Goddess.

"You sure you don't want any milk or sugar or something with that? The filter stuff is pretty bitter on its own."

"Oh, no thank you," The Goddess laughed, and really, was Ymir supposed to be able to handle so much light and cute in one load? "I need the caffeine boost. Coursework, you know?"

Nodding sympathetically, Ymir ran up the total without breaking anything and watched with soft eyes as the Goddess took her horrible coffee and hunched down in one of the huge leather chairs at the back of the shop, dwarfed in comparison to its size. She spread out a veritable mountain of papers over the wooden table, and Ymir was more than aware that this behaviour was bordering on stalkerish, but she couldn't help herself. It was a slow morning, after all. Between serving the occasional customer, Ymir had fuck all to do except to watch the blonde glaring into her work.

Periodically, she would take a sip of her ridiculous coffee, wincing as she drank with pink lips pursed and button nose wrinkled.

It was almost 2 hours before she left and Ymir watched her leave with a pang in her squished heart. Sasha poked her in the back of the head with a wooden spoon when the door had slammed itself shut, bell rattling. Then she gestured with it to the empty tables with trays and cups scattered over them, still needing to be cleaned.

"I could report you for neglecting your job, you know." Sasha grinned, brandishing the spoon in front of her like a sword. Ymir rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't, because then you'd have to find someone else to cover for you when you and Connie sneak off out the back."

"Fine, whatever loser," pouted Sasha, "Just go do your job."

Ymir hopped over the counter and grabbed the cleaning cloths from under it as she did so. It was a well practised maneuver.

When she finally reached the Goddess' table, which she had in no way been avoiding for the sake of her sanity, she noticed that the cup was half full of cold coffee.

"Maybe she forgot to drink it...?" Ymir wondered under her breath. A sing song "Hurry up, and quit over-thinking everything!" from Sasha yanked her out of her daydreaming.

  
  


***

  
  


The next day saw Ymir and Franz on the morning shift, and Ymir was almost, but not quite, wishing that Sasha was working instead. She didn't precisely dislike Franz, but his girlfriend was short and cute, and the young man never stopped talking about her new this, or her latest that. Not that she was jealous of him having a cute girlfriend or anything. No way.

At 9:25, it was Franz on the till when the Goddess turned up, duffle coat swapped for a grey hoodie, emblazoned with a rainbow motif.

Eyes wide, Ymir shooed him away from the till, a hastily muttered "I'll explain later, now just... go clean the tables or something." hushing his confused complaints.

The Goddess took a green earbud out of her ear, the tinny sound of electric guitars blaring from it, and said, "Small plain filter coffee, thanks.".

Ymir spared her the spiel from the previous day, instead just relaying the information to Franz. Just as the day before, the girl snuggled deep into the soft leather chairs at the back, reading through her mountain of papers and neglecting her coffee.

The pattern continued for the next week. The girl would enter the shop, wearing increasingly rainbow clothing and order the black coffee. She hadn't finished a cup yet, barely drinking past the halfway point.

 

It was the next Friday before the girl broke her pattern, by turning up at 11 with a friend. He was tall and built like - according to Sasha, who was whispering in Ymir's ear on tip-toes over her shoulder- a shit brick house on steroids. Dark hair was parted neatly and his skin was afflicted with the kind of huge, blotchy freckles covering everything that she had only ever seen on herself before.

The girl threw her head back in loud laughter as she walked through the door and smacked Brick-house's arm, smoothing her hair back down where he had ruffled the top of her head. Her bottom lip stuck out in a mock pout but her eyes never left the man's, and Ymir felt her heart sink. This must be a boyfriend, by the way they were so comfortable with each other, and those little touches, no matter that all those rainbows had made her think... Had given her the impression that...

They both approached the counter and despite the many besmirching, increasingly desperate glares Ymir threw at Sasha, she refused to come to her rescue.

"You traitor!" she hissed, before pasting a very fake smile across her lips. "Welcome to Survey, what can I getcha?"

The girl's eyes flickered over to where Sasha was sprinkling chocolate over some cream filled horror drink of epic sugar proportions, an action Ymir couldn't help but notice, then smiled softly, hypnotic eyes back on Ymir's.

"My usual, thanks."

Ymir smirked at the bemused expression on the most likely boyfriend's face and leant an elbow on the counter.

"One plain filter coffee, coming up. And for your... boyfriend?" She tried not to make the word a bitter question, she really tried. But the young man only laughed, whilst the girl flushed from the tips of her ears to her exposed collarbones.

"Ah, no, no, Christa's not my girlfriend," he spoke softly, with a strange smile playing at the corner of his lips. If he didn't look so fucking lovely, Ymir would've called it a smirk. "We're both far too gay for that. But I'd like a mocha, with extra marshmallows please."

Ymir didn't respond to his order at all, because the girl - Christa, he'd called her - was gay? Actually a lesbian?

Into girls?

Into girls... Like Ymir was?

Into girls... such as Ymir?

It took Sasha dropping a whole tray of metal spoons onto the floor to jolt her brain back into rational action.

"Um, yep, right. Mocha with extra marshmallows and a filter coffee. That'll be a bit longer than usual because of the mocha, so if one of you wants to wait at the other desk...?"

 _No_ , Ymir thought, _that is most definitely a smirk_.

The young man stepped backwards and threaded a hand through his hair, using the other to gesture towards one of the many empty tables, the time being too early for the lunch rush.

"I'll sit down if you don't mind, Christa, save us some seats, you know?” He winked, _completely_ unsubtly, patting Christa on the back and throwing himself down into a chair. His posture was more than a little exaggerated, hands linked at the back of his hand and one ankle resting on the other knee – but whilst his smile was light, his eyes shone sly where they were trained on the two girls at the counter.

Ymir looked back at Christa with an incredulous expression. 

“Is he always this...” she trailed off, and Christa grimaced in understanding. 

“Obnoxious? Obvious? _Shitheadish?_ ” She spoke the last word louder than the others, obviously speaking more to the man than Ymir. His grin only widened, and he waved. Ymir felt a flush of heat pink her cheeks at the sound of those pretty, delicate lips spilling profanities like they were nothing. 

“All of those work to be honest.” said Ymir. 

Christa shook her head, leaning in to Ymir conspiratorially and lowering her voice, now trying not to let her friend overhear her. 

“Marco was always a bit obvious about stuff, but he's got a lot worse since he met his boyfriend. I think the guy's been rubbing off on him.”

Ymir grinned leacherously. 

“I should say they've been _rubbing off on each other_ , eh?”

A little bit scandalised, Christa laughed despite her disgust, covering her breathless giggles with a dainty hand. Ymir noticed that each fingernail was painted a different, rather luminous colour. Her hand fell from her mouth before she spoke.

“Ew, no, I don't want to think about- ew! Dicks are not a thing I like to think about.”

Ymir knew she had to stop mentally fist pumping the air before she started to do it in real life. Instead, she just blew a lock of hair out of her face.  _Cool as a cucumber_ , Ymir thought to herself,  _you're so cool you're ice_ .

“So, the boyfriend's a bit of an arse, then?”

“Yes, I suppose he i-” Christa was interrupted by Sasha calling out, “A mocha with extra marshmallows and a filter coffee?”

Ymir murmured, “You had better get back to your friend.”

Taking a drink in each hand, Christa raised her coffee in the air and smiled again. 

“Nice talking to you... Ymir, right? Sorry, your name tag is all smudged.”

“Tha- That's perfect, actually. You too, Christa.” Ymir could feel the stutter in her voice and the blush in her cheeks rising, but for once, couldn't care less about saving face.

When Christa sat down, the man ( _Mark_ , Ymir thinks,  _or something like that_ .) unlaced his fingers, gave her a thumbs up and then said something Ymir couldn't hear over the rumbling of the machines behind her. Whatever it was, it embarrassed Christa, because she flushed up to the roots of her hair and socked Possibly Mark in the shoulder. He pouted in mock pain and-

Ymir needed to stop watching them like some sort of crazy stalker because someone was going to take note eventually and she did not want to have to explain herself to anyone. She spun around on one heel, busying herself with whatever she laid her hands on first (which happened to be a stack of mini chocolate muffins) to tidy up, pointedly not looking at the pair laughing in the corner of the cafe. 

At Christa laughing. 

  
  


 

She had thought that actually managing to maintain a human conversation with Christa would be the most shocking thing to happen to her that day. She'd calmed her racing nerves and told herself sternly that she could squeal and act as mushy as she wanted when she returned home. But she hadn't been counting on the insane wingman that was Possibly Mark. 

It was common for Ymir to find a pound or so as a tip on the table when she tidied away the cups and plates. A couple of times, she'd even found a note, and had been euphoric all day. 

But this was the first time she'd ever found a number as well as a handful of coins. Goddamn Possibly Mark (and she knew it was him, because why would Christa write about herself in third person) had tucked the business card under the half full cup of coffee Ymir had grown accustomed to seeing, and the few words scribbled in neat handwriting had shaken her down to her core. 

She pulled up the chair that Christa had vacated (who had done so with a small wave to Ymir, serving customers at the till), not believing that her legs would work well enough for her to stand up in her daze. 

_Christa's too terrified to talk to you herself, so please make the first move. She does know I'm giving you this, in case you think it'd be creepy. :)_

_#0XXX XXX 0000_

She flipped it over and absently recognised the name of the bakery the business card was advertising. Another note was scrawled in tiny letters along the bottom, but the handwriting was the same.

_If you take her for coffee, get her something sweet yeah? She doesn't actually like black coffee, no matter how much she says she does._

Shoving her hand into her pocket, Ymir stood up with a loud screech of the chair legs across the stone floor. She didn't speak to anyone for the rest of her shift and hid at the back of the shop, cleaning all of the tables until they shined.

^^^

Sitting on her bed, surrounded by piles of blankets and the various wires leading to her various electronic devices, Ymir twirled the card over and over between her fingers. The eleven digits of what she desperately hoped was Christa's number were branded into her brain, flashing neon pink and 3 metres high in her mind's eye. Her phone laying idle in her lap seemed to burn through the thin material of her pajama bottoms to her skin. The blank screen taunted her even more than the empty text box and its constantly flashing cursor had done, because at least then Ymir had felt as if she was making some vague attempt at progress. Now, screen dark and clearly no-where close to texting Christa, she couldn't pretend that she wasn't a complete coward, terrified of basic social interaction.

It had been so long since her last girlfriend, a ballet dancer named Annie (who had turned out to be a raging psychopathic murderess, but Ymir didn't like to dwell on that fact for too long), that she'd begun to think she'd never end up with anyone at all. Her latest attempt to even casually hook up at a bar failed, when the girl who'd been flirting with her outrageously had turned around after an hour and introduced her boyfriend, then tried to initiate a threesome. Ymir had high-tailed it out of the bar, making several not-so-polite excuses.

The phone screen lighting up with a loud **ping** notification startled her. She jumped, the card tumbling from her fingers and the phone sliding out of her lap when her leg twitched violently. She fumbled around for so long that the screen fell black again. Ymir swore, then opened the message with a frown.

From: Eren [Overly Excitable DJ Dude]

**hey ymir sasha says you finally found yourself a new gf**

From: Ymir

**fuck off eren I have not  
** **not yet at any rate**

From: Eren [Overly Excitable DJ Dude]

**yeaaaaaaah go get it girl**

From: Ymir

**thanks but no thanks for your help that was really useful**

Ymir sighed. Eren's message had distracted her from her panicking and she steeled her nerves. He was right, damn him. She opened the new text option, tapping in the number she'd memorised one character at a time. 

To: 0XXX XXX 000 [Christa Goddess]

**so hey  
** your friend gave me your number and we both know why  
he said you knew about all this so if you dont know please dont think im creepy its just that your friend is  
but anyway  
do you want to go get a drink sometime? 

Slamming the send button before she could over think it, Ymir threw the phone back down onto the bed sheets. Hopefully Christa would ignore her rambling.

The hour crept by without any answer. Ymir's imagination turned up with a series of increasingly disastrous reasons as to why Christa wasn't replying: Possibly-Mark was taking the piss and had given her the wrong number; Christa just wasn't anywhere near her phone; Christa thought she was coming on far too strong and was ignoring her; she had been in an accident and couldn't text back from the hospital-

The ping of a notification chimed again, scaring Ymir witless.

From: Christa [Goddess]

**hi :)  
** thanks, i'd love to grab a drink with you! Yes don't worry, I knew what marco was doing  
have you got anywhere in mind?  <3 

From: Ymir 

**my friend works at Rose's if you dont mind going there**

From: Christa [Goddess]

**i'd love that! Xx it's so cute there**

If Ymir flailed around on her bed squeaking and _yessss_ ing at that, then no-one ever had to know. She composed her next text laying on her back with her phone held above her head.

From: Ymir

**when are you free?**

From: Christa [Goddess]

**tomorrow is good x are you working then?**

From: Ymir

**nah im good  
meet me at two over at Rose's?**

From: Christa [Goddess]

**it's a date! Xxx <3**

Ymir's heart was not going to be able to handle this girl – she was too cute for words.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose's is a mish-mash of four cute cafes I frequent; one for the decor, one for the garden spot, one for the upstairs area that no-one seems to know about and the other for the black board with the really tall guy as the waiter/till dude.

Ymir has always had an image for herself, since she'd discovered clothes past what her parents bought her as a child. Combat boots and tough leather jackets adorned her wardrobe, and despite not trying to be a walking butch lesbian stereotype, she did own more checkered shirts than was probably healthy. In all, she was blunt and fierce and did in no way require help to dress herself for a date. But yet here she was, glaring at the various jeans and tops and jackets sprawled across her duvet, arms folded and wet hair slowly dripping down her collar. She hadn't moved in the past twenty minutes, except to cross and uncross her arms and frown a little harsher.

Her phone sat idle in the middle of the clothing. Ymir refused to look at it.

Her eyes flickered towards it before she could stop herself.

"Urgh," she groaned, then picked it up with a roll of her eyes. "Fine. _Fine!_ You win. I'll ask Sasha."

Unlocking her phone with a swipe, she waited with her foot tapping as the dial tone rang on for 6 rings. Ymir was about to give up and hang up the call when the line clicked through and Sasha's sleepy voice murmured a "Yeah? You okay?", followed by another, deeper groan that was distinctly not Sasha's.

"Eh, bitch, is that Connie with you?"  Ymir bit her lip and started pacing, glancing at the clock hanging crooked on her wall. She had over an hour; plenty of time.

"Migh' be." Sasha said. Connie's voice was muffled and indistinct, but Ymir could still hear him well enough to know he'd insulted her in some manner.

"Oi, dick bag, it's not even the morning anymore, I am more than okay to be calling your girlfriend for... For advice." Ymir spat out her final words like they left a bad taste in her mouth. As soon as she said them, she could just tell that both Sasha and Connie, nosy gits they were, had perked up and were listening to her properly now.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, laugh your heads off over there. But I need some help." sighed Ymir. "I have a date in an hour and I have no idea what to do - God, what do I wear?"

Ymir had to hold the phone away from her ear at the guffaw of laughter her words ignited. Once they'd stopped, she sat on the bed and spoke quickly into it.

"Look, don't fucking laugh at me, I'm serious here. She's so far out of my shitty ass league she might as be on Mars but for some _God unknown_ reason she's willing to deal with me for more than a _single minute_ , and if I don't want to scare her off permanently I'll need... help. From you. Either of you. You know I'm not used to the whole... dating. Thing."

Sasha's voice was suspiciously flat when she spoke, obviously trying not to laugh. Ymir couldn't find it in herself to appreciate the gesture.

"So, what do you want me to say? Take her out somewhere nice, pay for her food, compliment her and smile at her jokes. Not hard. What's her name again?"

Ymir knew she was in deep shit when she actually made a mental note of Sasha's words. Licking her lips, she squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head towards the ceiling before uttering her next words. They fell from between gritted teeth.

"Christa, and I guess that's good and all, but... What should I... wear?"

The static silence on the other end of the line didn't exactly fill Ymir with hope.

"You. You, Ymir the badass lesbian queen, want me to tell you what to wear? This is _gold_ , oh my God." laughed Sasha, and Connie's chuckles were audible as well.

Ymir could feel her teeth and her patience being ground away.

"Stop being dickheads and help me already, okay? Should I dress tidy, or more... myself?"

Ymir shoved her free hand through her fringe and grimaced at the water that dripped down her wrist. Sasha hummed in thought.

"She seemed pretty normal, so I wouldn't go all out, but don't wear that horrid jumper thing, for God's sake."

Frowning, Ymir sat up a little straighter. "And what's wrong with my jumper?"

"Ymir, it's got holes in it, the threads are all worn and it's so faded it might as well be white. Just no, okay?"

"Fine," Ymir conceded, "But what do I wear instead?"

It was Connie that answered, voice low and with a hint of 'Duh' colouring his words. "You're the type of person who sticks your gaydom in the public's face, right?"

"Yeah...?"

"And you're going on a very gay date?"

"No shit."

"So embrace the gay! Be the ultimate gay stereotype and wear a flannel shirt and a  leather jacket and jeans. Oh, and a backwards cap!" crowed Connie. "She won't be able to resist your butchness."

Ymir thought for a second. Considered the idea.

Reconsidered it, remembering that it came from Connie, of all people.

Then huffed, muttered a quick, begrudging, "Thanks." to the couple, and put the phone down. She dried her hair and pulled on a checkered shirt and jeans. What did she have to lose with the whole, classic lesbian look? Lesbian power had to be a thing - why else would Ellen DeGeneres be so powerful.

She threw her hair up in a messy ponytail and shucked on a pair of old converse, contemplating Connie's final words. In a moment of recklessness, she grabbed a cap out of her drawer. There was no harm in looking as butch as possible; after all, she didn't want to give Christa a false impression.

Ymir had to well and truly steel her nerves before she left the comfort of her tiny flat. Her heart was pounding in her chest and it took an almost illegible text from Eren to push her out of the door.

**From Eren:**

**gud luck on ur d8**

**get laiiiiid**

At least she knew someone cared.

Ymir walked so fast to Rose's Cafe that she arrived 10 minutes early, red faced and slightly winded.

The cafe was small, sandwiched between a clothes chain and a music shop, with a few metal tables and chairs under flower patterned umbrellas outside the door. Inside was light and airy, the walls painted a soft cream and every table adorned with a pastel pink cloth. A traditional blackboard proclaimed the daily specials, and the young man on the till wore a too-small apron emblazoned with petals spelling out 'Rose's'. His tall frame dwarfed the quaintness of the shop, but he fit there in a strange manner, with a quiet, peaceful charm. With a shy smile, he waved to Ymir through the glass of the window when he caught her eye. She gave a salute back, and laughed when he startled as customers approached the till.

Looking up at the sky, Ymir frowned. The clouds were growing heavy and grey, and the patches of blue sky still visible were receding quickly. She hadn't thought to bring a proper umbrella with her, and so ducked into one of the empty tables outside the shop. The metal was a cold shock through her jeans, and she hissed at the goosebumps which ran up her arms.

"Are you cold?" asked a soft voice from behind Ymir. Ymir jumped a foot into the air and spun around to face the person, words about not making innocent bystanders jump like that playing about her lips.

They all died at the sight of Christa standing in front of her, her blue eyes crinkled in amusement. Ymir's brain came to a standstill.

Christa's skirt was a deep red, and the white t-shirt tucked into it fell open over her shoulders, exposing blue bra straps. Her hair was as bright as the sun in the sky against the grey of the sky, and the strands that weren't long enough to tucked into her hair bun swayed by her ears in the slight breeze.

Once her brain had somewhat restarted from its angelic exposure, Ymir shut her mouth from where it had been hanging open very unattractively. Swallowing, she fought down her blush and nodded.

"A bit," she added, then realised what Christa was waiting for, "Um, right - let's go in then." She stood up quickly, wincing at the scrape of the chair, and opened the door to the cafe. Christa walked in by passing under Ymir's arm, and really, Ymir couldn't quite believe that this cutie pie could be hers, if she didn't fuck this up too badly.

Christa hadn't run away yet, though. It was a good sign.

She let the door shut with a clatter and gestured to Christa to the stairs near the back of the shop. At the girl's confused frown, she laughed.

"There's more seats upstairs, with a better view. We'll still get waiter service, but it's quieter."

Christa nodded, and jogged up the stairs, some hair falling loose from its bun.

Upstairs was similar in decor to the main interior of the shop. Pink flowers were placed in every corner of the room, and a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. Rather than the metal chairs from downstairs, however, seats were deep, black leather armchairs and the tables wooden and round.

Ymir knew she'd made the right choice when Christa's eyes widened and she immediately headed for a table of two directly next to a circular window, overlooking a garden hidden behind a stone wall. A delicate wooden shelter stood in it off to one side, and the walls of it were surrounded by white rose bushes.

Once seated, Christa tapped the window and sighed.

"This is beautiful," she marvelled, "I didn't even realise there was anything behind the wall."

"Yeah," said Ymir, "The wall is really old, some relic of the old town. The garden land is owned by the Rose's though; they're the ones who keep it so nice."

Christa gestured to Ymir, and she couldn't help but notice the dark blue of her fingernails.

"So how do you know about this floor, and the garden?"

Ymir grinned.

"Did you see the guy at the till?" she asked. Christa thought for a moment, then nodded.

"That's Bertholdt," she explained. "His nan owns the place still, and I've been friends with him for a few years now. I met him through my last girlfriend, but when we broke up, me and him stayed good mates. I helped out with the garden for a couple of pounds an hour last summer."

She dug into her pocket, and Christa's eyebrows knitted in confusion when she brought out a key-chain and held out a large silver key.

"This is the key into the garden." Ymir divulged. "And once we've got our drinks, we can go sit out there. If you want, that is." Ymir added, hastening to put the keys away.

Christa grabbed onto her wrist before she could do so, however, and nodded quickly.

"I'd love to," she said, "It looks... well, it looks gorgeous." The smile she flashed Ymir was fleeting, but Ymir thought that it was far more stunning than even the rose bushes had been on midsummer's night.

Just then, a man's voice interrupted them, and as Ymir looked up, she realised how close she and Christa had leant into each other's spaces.

Bertholdt had to duck slightly to avoid the low slope of the alcove they were sat in.

"What can I get you for Ymir, and for your...?" Bertholdt trailed off pointedly. Ymir glanced at Christa for a hint of what she was allowed to say in answer, but Christa had already begun to speak.

"Date. I'm her date."

Ymir flushed at Bertholdt's knowing look, and stuck out her tongue towards him.

"I'll have a tea thanks, milk, no sugar. Um, Christa, did you want something... sweet?"

She bit her lip as she remembered the words scrawled on the business card from Christa's friend.

Christa just squinted, but Ymir watched as her eyes lit up in understanding after a second.

"Marco said not to let me buy coffee, didn't he? He mentioned something?" she demanded. Ymir flushed, more than a little taken aback by her ferocity, and nodded facing her lap. Christa swore, but then laid a tentative finger on Ymir's chin. Startled, she looked up into laughing eyes and quashed the racing of her heart.

"Ymir - Ymir, honestly, it's fine. He's right. I'll have a hot chocolate, thanks. Extra cream." Christa directed her last words to Bertholdt, who was watching them both with a carefully blank expression that Ymir knew to be the closest he could come to mischievous.

He nodded, still poker faced, and scribbled their orders in a notebook. When he'd left, Ymir laughed a little shakily. It was silent for a minute, and she knew that Christa was just looking at her, and she felt uncomfortable in the tension between them. She tried to make light conversation.

"So, this Marco guy must know you pretty well then."

It was Christa's turn to laugh, and with it, the tension faded.

"Oh, Gosh, yes, he sure does. We both know each other really well, since we were little. Our parents are... well, not exactly friends, but close business partners in a way, and sent us to the same child minders. We grew up together." She smiled widely, cheeks dimpling.

"We joke that our minder was our true idol, and since she was a lesbian lady, we both turned out as gay as rainbows."

Tugging at the skin beside her fingernail, Ymir sighed.

"I never had anyone like that. No-one close to me."

Christa frowned.

"Not even your girlfriend? The one who knew Bertholdt."

"Nope," Ymir shook her head. "Not really. I have friends, don't get me wrong, but I'm a lonely bitch."

They were drifting closer again, so Ymir could see the cracks in Christa's pearly lipstick, and the light reflecting in her eyes. Ymir licked her lips and saw Christa's eyes flash down to them. Just a tiny movement, so small that she wouldn't have noticed had she not been looking for it.

But she had, and it was there.

"Christa..." she murmured, low and husky. Christa's eyes slid shut and Ymir's brain went haywire, but she powered on regardless, breathing erratic but so, so excited. "Christa, kis-"

"One tea and one hot chocolate for you tw- Oh! _Oh_ , I'm so sorry, I'm _so sorry_ , I'll just leave these here, leave you to it, _sorry_ , I'll just... I'll just go now." Bertholdt backed out of the room quickly after placing the cups on the table, wringing his hands at his interruption of the two girls and the force of the dual glares being thrown his way.

"Going!"

They could still hear his apologies from the stairs, and Ymir rolled her eyes.

"He'll sweat over this for a week." she muttered. Christa hummed, then leaned back in to Ymir.

"How about we go to that garden, and carry this on in private, hmm?" she whispered, breath warm against Ymir's cheek. Ymir nodded, and they both stood up clutching their drinks carefully.

As they passed the counter, Ymir threw a fiver to Bertholdt and said flippantly, "Keep the change!"

In the time they'd been inside, it had begun raining outside, but the two girls just ran to the garden, laughing breathlessly as Christa tried to protect both their drinks and Ymir fumbled with key, it being slippery in the rain.

Once inside, the gate shut against the other customers, they ducked into the shelter, where a bench had been carved out of a thick log, big enough for both of them to sit comfortably on.

Christa placed their drinks on the small table and turned to Ymir. She spoke softly, but despite the thundering of the rain on the roof, she was close enough to Ymir that Ymir could hear her perfectly.

"So... We're in private now, right? No-one to disturb us..." She pulled Ymir's cap off her head, and wrapped a finger around a lock of hair when it all came tumbling around her face. Ymir's next breath was shuddering, but she laid a hand on Christa's jawline, rubbing her thumb along the soft skin. The rain was heavier now, and Ymir couldn't tell the pounding noise of it apart from the beats of her heart.

But when they kissed, Ymir felt that time itself had frozen and the earth had stopped spinning.

Christa's lips were a little wet from the rain and her drink and her lipstick, but were warm and soft and perfect against her own. It was gentle, a brush and nothing more, but Ymir wanted nothing else at that moment.

They separated, and Ymir blew out a long breath.

"God, you're so pretty." she muttered, and smiled at Christa's blush. "I wanna date you so bad."

"Then... Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Christa replied, just as quietly.

"Yes. But... I don't even know your _name_ , wow, do I feel fucking useless."

"Historia Christa Lenz-Reiss, at your service." Christa mimed a bow with a twirl of her wrist.

Ymir cocked her head to the side.

"Your name isn't Christa?"

"Well, would _you_ want to go by Historia?"

Ymir thought for a second, then shook her head.

"Guess not."

And then, just because she could, Ymir kissed her new girlfriend again.

She'd never loved the taste of chocolate more.


End file.
